The Way My Life Began and Ended
by Amorina Deanna
Summary: I like to think that I am strong. I am one of those girls. You know, the ones who never had boyfriends. The ones who never needed boyfriends. He was my first. And, knowing the way my life works, he will be my last. He kissed me. And then he left me.


He kissed me. And then he left me. That kiss; it was… my life.

I like to think that I am strong. I am one of those girls. You know, the ones who never had boyfriends. The ones who never _needed_ boyfriends. He was my first. And, knowing the way my life works, he will be my last.

I used to laugh. Walking through the halls at school, I would look at those girls, hanging off a male arm, simply for the sake of it. I thought, I would never be like that, never me.

I never thought I would fall in love. I never thought I would get my heart broken.

You do not know pain until your heart breaks. Place your hand over it. Feel it beat; thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. Just like that. Your heart is a moving thing. It holds your body together. It pumps blood to your body. Now imagine someone, with their bare hands, scraping at the skin on your chest. They continue to do so until they reach your heart. They take their hands and grab it. However, they do not pull it out of your chest. Oh, no. That would be _way_ too merciful. No, instead they take their fingers and begin to scratch and shred at your heart. They continue until all that is left is blood and bits of tissue.

Then they look at it. That thing that kept your body alive. You cannot live without it. Therefore, they did not remove it. They left it. It performs its duty. It pumps blood and with each thump, you can feel the pain. Then they smile. They help you stand up. They brush themselves off and walk away.

I never believed in love. My parents all-to-quickly ruined that for me. I remember waking up to the late night screaming and tears. I could hear them, all the way down the hall in my own room.

It was only a matter of time before Dom would pad into the room, slide her slippers off her feet and carefully, oh-so-carefully, lift up my sheet and slip under it, her body adding to the warmth of my bed. We lay very still; I put my arms around her, being careful not to make a sound. If they heard the bedsprings creak… I do not know what would have happened. The bedsprings never creaked; they never knew we were awake, so nothing happened.

Nothing happened until father would storm out of their bedroom and go outside, presumably for a walk on the beach. Even in winters, the weather at Shell Cottage was mild. After father would leave, we would patter down the hallway in our slipper-ed feet and peek in at mother. When she heard her bedroom door rasp open, she would turn her body from where it was sitting on the other side of the bed. Her tear-streaked face and blood-shot eyes would look at us as she silently held her arms open.

She would always say the same things. In all of the years that this continued, her script never changed. "Did you hear all of that?"

At our nods, she would sigh and tears would begin to leak out of the corners of her eyes again. She would kiss us. On our foreheads, our hair – mine white blonde like hers and Dom's a deep, russet red like our father's – , our cheeks. She would murmur through her tears, "I am sorry. I am so, so sorry."

When I was a little girl, I always wanted things to be better between my parents. I always wanted things to change. I would wish, I would pray to whatever beings were out there, both those that were known and unknown. My little girlish heart just wanted everyone around me to get along.

As a teenager, my sorrow turned to anger. Is that not one of the steps in the grieving process? I could not tell you what I was grieving. My parents' marriage? No that could not be it, my parents were still together. The years of hard work they put in towards each other paid off. Either way. I was angry at my parents. I felt they had taken away something every human should have the right to have. They had taken away my childhood. All those nights of having to comfort Dom, of having to comfort my mother, took a toll. I had to grow up.

My friends always said that I was cynical. They told me that I was too mature; I needed to learn how to have fun. Can I blame that on my parents? I _had_ to grow up. I had to be the adult for my sister. I had to be the post for my mother to lean on. Now, my parents have worked everything out. It is too late for me, now. I needed that then, so I would not have had to grow up. It does nothing for me, _now_.

I always loved easily. Actually, that is a blatant lie. I do not know how I loved. I wish I could analyze it for you, but I cannot. All I know is, once you had my love, once we had proven ourselves worthy of each other's love, you never left my heart. I loved you with my entire heart, my entire body, my entire mind, and my entire soul. Needless to say, _that_ will not happen anymore. He took that and abused it.

Now, I watch him. I had run up to his little house. No matter that in his letters – which I had received few and far between – he was as distant as I had ever known him. He was my best friend, I loved him, had always loved him, and he had kissed me. He had chosen _me_, Victoire Weasley, to love.

I should have known, should have realized. There were so many signs, but I, a schoolgirl in love, was much to naïve to recognize them. Why would Teddy need a house? He was Teddy, would a flat not have done as well for him? Why had I heard no news about him and his work from my relatives? My cousins rarely spoke of him, as well.

I watch, through the front window. She is rearranging the mantelpiece. I see him. He comes up behind her and places his hand on her stomach. It is at this point that I realize it is protruding slightly from her body. She turns and kisses him, full on the mouth. She kisses those same lips that had gently caressed mine but ten months ago.

I watch as he pulls away from her lips and places an ear to her stomach. His mouth moves and I know he is talking to the child. _His_ child.

Tears fill my eyes and I move to Disapparate. Because, it is now that I realize what has been staring me in the face for so long. Teddy Lupin is not, and will never be, mine.

A/N: I seem to have a talent for whipping up these totally emo and completely rambling fics.

I HATE the title. If anyone has any ideas as a title for this fic or my Scorpius fic, please let me know.

Well, heartz to all and please review. -xXblackheartzXx


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